The SpongeBob Christmas Carol
by DiamondTopaz
Summary: Charles Dickens' timeless holiday tale...retold by the inhabitants of Bikini Bottom. YES, LADIES AND GENTS, IT'S FINALLY DONE!
1. Hard Times at the Holidays

_Author's note_: Season's greetings, one and all! The fic you are about to read is the product of _an entire year's_ worth of my time, tears and sweat. (Yes, mostly my sweat.) The idea originally came from watching "The Muppets Christmas Carol" on TV last December and noticing a striking resemblance between Scrooge and our dear friend Mr. Krabs. At first, I had planned to make a comic strip of Dickens' epic holiday tale featuring the cast of SpongeBob, but in all honesty…I just didn't have the time or technology. Therefore, instead, you lucky patrons will be treated to the written version! Hoo-rah!

You know the disclaimer score. If you recognize it, I don't own it. With that, bon voyage.

"**The SpongeBob Christmas Carol" by DiamondTopaz**

"Welcome, friends, to another day in _ze_ undersea paradise known as Bikini Bottom," an omniscient French voice began. "And not just any day…today is Christmas Eve. _Ze_ day before _ze_ happiest event of _ze _year." Indeed, _most_ the town of Bikini Bottom was adorned with Christmas decorations...but there was one place that did not join in the festivities. The Krusty Krab stood alone and bare; no colorful Christmas lights hanging from the roof, not even a festive holiday wreath on the door. In fact, the only noteworthy thing about the place was the large, empty patch of soil beside it, where the long-gone Krusty Krab 2 once stood.

"But unfortunately, at _ze_ Krusty Krab, it is not turning out to be a _joyeaux noel_," our French narrator continued.

It didn't look much better inside the fast-food eatery. There was no one standing at the cash register, and an awful lot of commotion could be heard coming from the kitchen. Then finally, a flustered-looking SpongeBob emerged through the door into the dining room, carrying a tray. He rushed over to a seated customer and placed the tray on the table in front of her.

"Here you are; sorry about the wait!" he announced cheerfully. "One Tofu Patty meal!"

The customer gave him a reluctant look. "Um…Tofu Patty?" she repeated. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I ordered a Super Carnivorous Patty Deluxe."

Tears formed in SpongeBob's eyes, as though he had just made the biggest blunder of his entire life. "You…did?" he squeaked…followed by an agonized wail. "_Oh, how could I have been so blind!_" he sobbed. "_That's the second time today!_"

His customer inched away, looking weirded out. "Whoa, hey man, it's cool. Just take it easy; tofu is…eh…fine," she assured him.

He sniffed. "Are you sure?"

She looked unsurely at the Tofu Patty, then hesitantly took a bite. Instantly she made a face, but tried to mask it with a smile. "Mmm. Yum." She gave SpongeBob a reluctant thumbs-up.

He beamed. "Okay, then! Enjoy your tofu! Oh…and Merry Christmas!" He turned and headed back toward the kitchen, not noticing the customer retch and spit out the tofu. Before he could make it back to the kitchen, he was intercepted by a fish dressed in hippie attire.

"Dude, where's my Tofu Patty?" the hippie asked. "I've been chilling here for, like, ten minutes now! What's up?"

"_You_ ordered the tofu?" SpongeBob realized. "Oh no, I must have switched your order with that Super Carnivorous Patty Deluxe by mistake! Um, I'm sorry, sir, but I could make you the Super Carnivorous Patty Deluxe on the house, if you want."

"No way, man! Like, I'm a vegetarian! Not cool!" the hippie spat, waving his fins angrily. "When are you corporate machines going to learn? The longer you continue to make your Krabby Patties out of living, feeling beings, the longer you _blah blah blah_…"

As the hippie continued his tirade, SpongeBob stood there, looking crushed that his service had failed to meet customer standards. In the meantime, behind the door on the opposite side of the register, Mr. Krabs loafed in his office oblivious to the unrest taking place right outside. He relaxed in a lounge chair in front of his desk, clad only in Speedos and a pair of sunglasses, a solar lamp beaming on him and several bags of money beside him. "Ahh, life is good," he mused. Then he heard the hippie's rant coming from outside. He sat up immediately and began sniffing the air. "Uh-oh. That smells like an angry customer complaint…"

The hippie was just finishing his speech--"to bring peace and love back to the world!"--when Mr. Krabs hurried out of his office, fully clothed and bearing harsh tan lines where his sunglasses were.

"Uh, excuse me sir, is something wrong? I'm the owner of this establishment; is there a problem?" Mr. Krabs asked him.

The hippie shook his head. "Just forget it, Man! This place is totally not with it!" he pushed his way past Mr. Krabs and SpongeBob and left the Krusty Krab in a huff.

Mr. Krabs looked sternly at SpongeBob, his claws on his hips. "SpongeBob? What was that all about?"

SpongeBob shrugged. "I'm not sure, Mr. Krabs. Somewhere in between 'corporate machines' and 'totally bad vibes,' I couldn't quite understand what he was talking about."

"You tried to give a meat product to a vegan again? That's the third time this week!" Mr. Krabs put an arm around SpongeBob's shoulders. "What's the matter with you, Boy? You used to make and deliver orders like it was nothing."

"I know…but it's just that things have gotten a lot harder, and--" the yellow sponge started.

"_Harder?_" his boss interrupted, a false and theatrical hurt expression on his face. "SpongeBob, do you think it's easy for me that we haven't seen a profit in over a month?" He held his claw to his chest. "Don't you think I suffered when we had to close down me beloved Krusty Krab 2 and strike it for resources?" he punched the sky for extra gusto. "Yes, times have changed, but that's why I need you to be strong now!"

SpongeBob looked down. "I'm sorry, Mr. Krabs, but I had no idea that running the kitchen _and_ the cash register at the same time would be so…demanding." He closed his eyes sadly. "Things have sure gotten a lot tougher, ever since Squidward was lost in that red tide." He sniffed and brushed away a tear.

"Aye," Mr. Krabs nodded, feigning sympathy. "It was indeed a tragic loss, and we certainly can't let poor old Squidward's memory go in vain. That's why we have the tip jar!" he pointed casually to a jar on the counter beside the register. It was simply labeled 'Squidward J. Tentacles Memorial Tip Jar," and there were a few loose coins inside it.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Krabs," SpongeBob complied doubtfully.

"Good! Now, it looks like the lunch rush has dies down a bit," Mr. Krabs observed, handing SpongeBob a broom. "Why don't you sweep the floor, make yourself look economical?"

"Aye-aye, sir." SpongeBob saluted wanly, took the broom and started sweeping. But just as he did, the floor and entire building began to shake. He looked quizzical…until he saw that the cause of the "earthquake" was Mr. Krabs's mammalian daughter Pearl entering the front door. "Oh, hi Pearl!" he greeted her.

"Hello, SpongeBob! Merry Christmas!" Pearl beamed.

SpongeBob walked over to a jukebox that had been conveniently installed in the Krusty Krab recently. "And a merry Christmas to you, too!" he chirped, inserting a quarter in the jukebox. The first chords of 'The Very First Christmas' began to play, and the ever-spirited SpongeBob pretended to play his broom like a guitar along with the music.

Pearl giggled. "Oh, SpongeBob! You are such a little kidder!" With that, she walked over to the register, where Mr. Krabs is busy inspecting the tip jar. "Hi, Daddy!" she exclaimed.

Mr. Krabs put the jar down almost embarrassedly. "Why hello, Pearl! What can I do for me sweet little oyster today?"

"Well, I was just wondering…" Pearl held open a teen magazine to a page in which a fish supermodel was wearing high-heeled boots. "Can I have these boots for Christmas? Flipper Slippers are _so_ last season; these Anemone Boots are all the rage now."

"For Christmas!" Mr. Krabs repeated. "Don't be silly, Pearl; we ain't celebrating Christmas."

"What?" Pearl gasped.

SpongeBob instantly stopped playing his broom in the background. "What?"

"All Christmas does is give lubbers an excuse to take a day off, stuff their faces with tasteless fruitcakes and puddings, and butter up their friends and family with expensive gifts," Mr. Krabs scoffed. "It's a waste of time…and more importantly, a waste of money. And in _my_ house we will have no part of it."

Pearl's eyes welled up with tears. "Dad…you're so unfair! Why is everything _always_ about money with you!" she ran out the front door, sobbing.

Mr. Krabs sighed. "You see, SpongeBob? That's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. Christmas just brings people down."

SpongeBob looked up at Mr. Krabs with big, starry, corny eyes. "That's not true, Mr. Krabs. Christmas is a time for giving, for bringing us all together and sharing joy."

"Ahh, SpongeBob, SpongeBob. When will you learn?" Mr. Krabs shook his head. "Anyone who tells you that is trying to sell something."

For a second SpongeBob looked crestfallen, but that changed when he heard the next two people to come through the front door.

"Look lively, young ward! Let us try asking here!" Mermaid-Man declared, standing imposingly in the doorway.

"Sure, why not? We've already been everywhere else," Barnacle-Boy said with much less enthusiasm.

SpongeBob gasped ecstatically. "Mermaid-Man and Barnacle-Boy!" he rushed to the elders' side. "Oh, worthy heroes! Permit me the honor of sweeping a path for your righteous feet to trudge upon!" he wielded his broom and quickly cleaned the floor leading to the register. The two superheroes, paying little attention to their spastic young fan, approached Mr. Krabs at the register.

"Hello, gentlemen. Would you like to order something?" Mr. Krabs asked.

"What Mr. Krabs means is, "To what do we owe this tremendous honor, Your Heroships?" SpongeBob cut in.

Mermaid-Man fumbled, as though trying to remember what it was they came in for. "Oh? Well, uh…in light of this Holiday Season, we want to…hmm…that is…"

"We're accepting donations for the retirement home," Barnacle-Boy finished for him.

Mr. Krabs looked unimpressed. "Yeah? And?"

"And, uh, we were wondering if you could help out with a donation," Mermaid-Man said.

"Ha! You can just forget it, Old-Timers!" Mr. Krabs sneered.

"Mr. Krabs is right! You can just forget _all_ your worries, because we'd love to help out any way we can!" SpongeBob exclaimed, missing Mr. Krabs's point entirely.

"Really? That's great; how much can we put you down for?" Barnacle-Boy asked.

"Oh, you guys are mistaken…" Mr. Krabs started.

"That's right; you're mistaken if you think we'd give up any less than $100!" SpongeBob continued.

"SpongeBob!" Mr. Krabs snapped.

"Oh, right; sorry. Better make it $200!"

"Okay, that's enough!"

"Enough low-balling, you mean? Boy, you sure know how to drive a hard bargain, Mr. K! $500!"

"I'm warning you, Lad! If you don't stop this…"

"…at any other price, it just wouldn't be fair. $1,000 it is, then!"

"Wow, $1,000. Thanks, you've been a big help. Will that be cash or check?" Barnacle-Boy asked.

"Neither!" Mr. Krabs spat, starting to get very frustrated.

Once again, SpongeBob could be counted upon. "Yeah! Take it out of his retirement fund!"

"Can do!" Mermaid-Man answered as he and his young ward lumbered toward the exit. "Thanks again, and Merry Christmas!"

SpongeBob waved after them. "Merry Christmas, oh Great Ones!"

Poor Mr. Krabs was at a loss for words. He gritted his teeth, turning a brighter shade of red than usual and twitching with anger. Oblivious, SpongeBob looked at his boss happily. "Ah, it sure feels good to help out a noble cause, doesn't it Mr. Krabs?"

At that, Mr. Krabs literally exploded. "AAAAGH! THAT'S THE LAST STRAW! SPONGEBOB, YOU'RE FIRED!" he screamed.

SpongeBob yelped. "But…but…"

"But nothing! I've had it with you!" Mr. Krabs interrupted. "You may have been the best fry cook in the land, but you can't even keep an order straight anymore, and now you've just lost me one thousand of my hard-earned dollars!"

"But Mr. Krabs, it's Christmas, SpongeBob protested. "And Mermaid-Man and Barnacle-Boy are the superest superheroes ever; I was just trying to…"

"Oh, will you forget that ridiculous Christmas nonsense already!" the infuriated crab shouted.

The yellow sponge's face was the most pitiful it had ever been. "Mr. Krabs, please don't fire me. The Krusty Krab is my whole world," he pleaded.

"I know, Boy, but my decision is final! It's time to move on." Mr. Krabs declared.

Defeated, SpongeBob lowered his head in shame. "Then I…guess there's nothing more I can do," he whimpered, turning to leave. "Just so you know…I still think you're the greatest boss there ever was." He tried to restrain himself from crying as he trudged out the front door, but once he's outside Mr. Krabs heard him wailing uncontrollably.

"Ah, he'll get over it," the old crab shrugged.

_Author's note_: I have the next chapter ready to post (it's one of my favorites, and I think you can take a guess what it is), but I'm going to wait a few days and see how this one goes over first. But don't worry; the whole thing should be posted in time for Christmas…


	2. Cruel Irony

Author's note: Wow! I don't think any of my stories has _ever_ gotten such an overwhelming positive response in the first 24 hours after it launches! SB Xmas Carol will _definitely _continue as planned.

This chapter is one of my favorites…and it was also one of the hardest because I love this scene in the original Christmas Carol (and the Muppets' rendition) so much that I didn't think this could live up to those standards. But it turned out alright…albeit a little shorter than all the other chapters.

Stephen Hillenburg and Nickelodeon own SpongeBob…Charles Dickens owns Christmas Carol. I just slapped the two together. (Apparently from my reviews, a lot of people have thought of doing it…and I'm surprised that it hasn't happened on the show by now.) That said, on with Chapter 2.

**Chapter 2—Cruel Irony**

The remaining afternoon passed rather uneventfully. Mr. Krabs sat alone at the register, keeping himself entertained by his meager profits. Then, when closing time finally rolled around, he locked up the Krusty Krab and posted a sign in the front, reading "Closed for the Holidays." He walked away, muttering something about 'getting robbed every 25th of December.'

All the lights were off when he reached his anchor abode. Inside, he turned on the lights to find the place empty. "Pearl? Pearl?" he called, receiving no answer. A few more steps into the house, and he found a note from Pearl.

It read: _Gone out with friends_ _who actually understand me! Goodbye!_ Pearl.

_P.S.—Have a very merry Christmas. XP_

"Argh. Christmas." Mr. Krabs shook his head. "Oh, well. Time for a good, hot bath." With that he proceeded to his bathroom, dismissing all the fuss and bother that was the Christmas season. …Little did he know he was in for a lesson about the Christmas spirit that he wouldn't soon forget.

In the bathroom, he retrieved his bathrobe and changed into it behind a frilly pink curtain. Then he walked over to his round, Jacuzzi-style bathtub, complete with candelabras all aglow. Mr. Krabs filled the tub with dollar bills and stepped in contentedly. "Ahh…" he sighed. "Wait, where's me back scrubber?" He looked around and located his back scrubber—a stick with a melon ball on the end—and proceeded to scrub his back, relaxing in the midst of his riches and candlelight. "Ahh, that's more like it."

Suddenly, a faint creaking and groaning sound came from downstairs. "Huh!" Mr. Krabs gasped, but was answered only by silence. He shrugged it off and continued to scrub himself.

The eerie groaning resumed, accompanied by the rattling of chains.

"What's that!" Mr. Krabs started to get alarmed. The noises gradually got louder…closer… "Who's there!" he called. At last the bathroom door flew open, extinguishing the candles, and a strange murky mist began to seep into the room. In a frenzy, Mr. Krabs sat straight up and struggled into the bathrobe left at the foot of the tub. He got it on, but didn't tie it up. "Don't come any closer! Whoever you are! I'm…I'm armed!" he whimpered, wielding his back scrubber.

In the doorway, an undistinguishable shadowy figure surrounded by an ambient grey haze appeared. "Ughh…" the shadowy figure moaned.

Mr. Krabs's eyes expanded like balloons about to burst. "AAHHHH! POLTERGEIST!" He folded his claws to plead for his petty life. "Please don't hurt me, Spirit from Beyond the Grave! I'll give you anything you want!" He looked around with uncertainty amidst all the money in his tub. "Uh…You like me back scrubber?" He held it up, flinching.

The shadowy figure stepped forward. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Krabs," he said in a recognizably dull and nasal voice. "But I have to admit, even in death I never thought I'd live to see a more pathetic sight of you." He picked up a $100 bill in the tub. "Are these all hundreds?" He shook his head in disgust.

Mr. Krabs opened his tightly-shut eyes. "Eh?" He inspected the ghost. "You sound familiar. Do I know you?"

"You should. I spent the more miserable half of my life working for you." The ghost became recognizable, and Mr. Krabs finally saw the transparent apparition of Squidward, carrying lots of chains and looking very haggard and exhausted. "I'm your former employee, Squidward."

"Squidward? Really?" Mr. Krabs reached over to touch Squidward's shoulder, as if to verify that the ghost was real.

Squidward moved away from Mr. Krabs's hand "Yes. What's left of me, anyway."

Mr. Krabs blinked, then immediately started laughing. "Ha, ha! Oh, I get it! I'm hallucinating, right? Heheh, I guess my lunch didn't agree with my stomach. Yesiree, it looks like that fruit salad has come back to haunt me! Ha, ha!"

Squidward narrowed his gray, opaque eyes in annoyance. "If you were having a fruit-induced hallucination, believe me…it would be infinitely much easier on the both of us." He indicated Mr. Krabs's untied bathrobe. "Now _puh-lease_, cover your shame; I didn't drag 50 lbs. of solid chains up a flight of stairs to see _that_."

"Oh, er…" Mr. Krabs fumbled with the robe ties self-consciously. "So, uh…if it's really you, Squidward, then why _are_ you dragging around 50 lbs. of chains?"

"Funny you should ask," Squidward began. "In life, I had just three great things to live for: me, myself and I. I pushed everyone away who ever cared about me…and the only thing I ever cared about was myself." He held one of the chains tightly between his hands. "Little did I know that there were endless consequences for my vanity. These chains represent every single self-interested move I ever made…and now I have to carry them until the end of time." As he spoke, one of the links he held tightly between his hands randomly broke. He looked surprised for a moment, and then hesitantly stuffed the broken chain behind him and out of sight.

Mr. Krabs, faking sympathy, picked up another of the chains with a clarinet on the end of it. "Awww, gee. I'm really sorry to hear that. …I guess this is what they call a…_cruel irony_!" He laughed at his own joke. "Hahaha! Get it? Iron-y! Haha!"

Squidward was getting visibly more annoyed. "Oh, sure. Go ahead and laugh, Mr. Krabs. But that's just what I came to warn you about. If you think _this_ is a cruel irony, you should see the chains that are being made for _you_."

That made the old crab stop laughing instantly. "What? Me! But _why_!"

"You've gotten worse, Mr. Krabs. Since my spirit can never rest in peace, I continue to wander in this world totally alone. Now, this is the first and only time you'll be able to see me, but I've been watching you these past few months…and you've gotten worse," Squidward explained. "You cheat on your taxes; you set up that ridiculous "tip jar" at my expense; and even though I hate to admit it, the way you've treated SpongeBob—your only faithful worker—has been grossly unfair."

"But…you of all people would understand, it's just business. When business gets tough, a good businessman gets _tougher_, right?" Krabs protested.

"Are you really that blind? You are a miserly shell of a man, a skinflinted old cheapskate, and there is nothing more selfish than that."

"Why is everyone always saying that? There's nothing wrong with knowing the value of a dollar!"

"Look at yourself. You're in a _tub_ of dollars," Squidward replied flatly. "But this is how I'm fated to spend forever. My back has been agonizing me since Week One. I wouldn't wish this on anybody…not even _you_."

Krabs took the situation far more seriously at this point. "No, no! This can't be happening! You gotta help me, Squidward! Please, I've never asked you for anything before!" he begged, pathetically clutching two fistfuls of money to himself and eyes tearing up.

"There's nothing _I_ can do, Mr. Krabs, but fortunately for you there are three other ghosts who can."

"Three other ghosts?"

"They'll be coming to see you before the night is through. I suggest you take their advice, unless of course you _want_ to share my cruel and ironic fate."

Mr. Krabs just made weepy noises.

"I thought not." Squidward held up a watch on the end of another chain. "Well, it's been a _joy_ talking to you again, but I must going now. I have to be back to my eternity in limbo by midnight. Good-bye." He started to painfully drag all his chains around and out the door. "Oh, yeah; one more thing," he added, looking back. "The first ghost will be arriving at 1 AM, sharp." He pointed at Mr. Krabs's bathrobe. "You might consider making yourself decent."

The crab looked down at himself. "But I—" His voice trailed off as he looked up and saw that the ghost of Squidward had vanished from sight…and all the lights had mysteriously returned. "Argh. I must be working too hard. Guess I just need a good night's sleep."

Author's note: Sonic Hero, you predicted that Squidward would be the Past Ghost…and I guess you were close. He is my favorite character on the show, but I could think of _no one _more deserving of the infamous role of Jacob Marley. It just had to be Squid. Sorry. I hope the character who _does_ play the Past Ghost won't disappoint you.

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be up as soon as I get a chance to transfer it to prose from script form…which has dubbed a no-no. Ta.


	3. Lost Touch

_Author's note_: Thanks again, everyone, for your kind support. Seriously, I did not imagine that this little crossover would go over very well.

Just one little minor thing I wanna mention about this chapter. Because it takes place in the past and there are two characters that go by the name of "Mr. Krabs," I'm afraid it may get a bit confusing. So, I tried to clarify it by calling one "Mr. Krabs" and one "Past Mr. Krabs." That's all. Happy reading.

**Chapter 3-Lost Touch**

Having totally dismissed the appearance of Squidward's ghost and his warning as a hallucination, Mr. Krabs silently proceeded getting ready to retire for the night. Once in bed he was asleep in no time, because the mattress that his former employee SpongeBob had bought for him was a lot more comfortable than the lumpy, money-filled one that was now locked safely away in his closet. Plus, he could rest easy that the _new_ mattress was a gift, and therefore free.

Mr. Krabs snored away, sleeping like a baby, suspecting that the worst of his "hallucinations" were over. The clock beside his bed showed the time to be 12:59AM. Then, just as it struck 1AM, the room filled with a blinding bright light, and Mr. Krabs snapped awake to the sound of a familiar Western female voice.

"Yee-ha! Rise and shine, Mr. Krabs! We got yer whole history to see, and just a few hours to see it in!" the chipper voice exclaimed.

Mr. Krabs sat up in bed and narrowed his eyes at the speaker of those words. It looked very much like that squirrel, Sandy Cheeks, except it was clad in flowing blue robes and radiated with a brilliant blue haze. "Oh, let me guess. You're the first ghost that I was warned would be coming?" Mr. Krabs conjectured.

"Yup! They call me the Ghost of the Past. Right pleased to make yer acquaintance!" the visitor replied.

"The Ghost of the Past?" Mr. Krabs seemed confused. "But you look just like SpongeBob's little land friend, Sandy."

The ghost giggled. "That ain't no coincidence. You can call me Sandy if you like; we spirits can assume the forms of the living to come to Earth and help out fellers in need. And this form seemed just the one to assume while I'm here to help _you_, Mr. Krabs."

"In need?" Mr. Krabs repeated, then shook his head. "Sorry Spirit—er, _Sandy_. But you must have the wrong crab. I don't need your help."

"That's just what I thought you might say," Sandy replied. "But somewhere along the line you got so caught up in things like _money_ and _business_ that you just plain lost touch with yerself. My job is to figure out just where in yer past you took that turn!" She waved her hand, and swirling vortex appeared in the room.

Mr. Krabs, was hesitant to even get out of bed.

"Well, c'mon! Time's a wastin'!" Sandy insisted, grabbing the old crab by the hand and dragging him up. His gaze was still fixed on the vortex in the center of his room.

"What is this thing? Some kind of black hole?" he asked, sticking his hand in the vortex apprehensively.

"'Course not! It's a time portal; we're riding it to visit yer past." She waved her hand again, and a snowboarding shell materialized beside her. She hopped onto it, pulling Mr. Krabs on behind her.

"Whoa, wait Sandy! Are you sure that—" he started to protest.

"'Course I am! I done this bunches of times!" She put Mr. Krabs's hands on her shoulders. "Hang on tight, now! Here we go!" With that, the shellboard took off by itself into the time portal.

The inside of the vortex was a surreal tunnel, much like the one Plankton once went through in an attempt to trade lives with Mr. Krabs. Now Mr. Krabs and Sandy sped through on the shellboard at break-neck speed.

Sandy outstretched her arms like a bird, clearly enjoying the thrill. "WHEEE!"

At the same time, Mr. Krabs held onto her shoulders for dear life as his feet sailed out from under him. "WAAAH!"

The other end of the time portal appeared right outside Mr. Krabs's front door in the middle of a sunny day. Mr. Krabs and Sandy emerge, and Mr. Krabs stumbled off, clutching his heart and gasping for breath. "Ugh…I'm too old for this sort of thing." After he composed himself, it dawned on him where they were. "Hey, wait one seafaring minute! We're right outside my house! Why couldn't we have just used the front door?"

"This ain't yer house on just any old day, Mr. Krabs," Sandy replied as the shellboard and time portal disappeared. "We've gone back in time!" She held up a newspaper to verify that this was true. The headline was "THE WAR IS OVER!"

"The war is over." Mr. Krabs read. "Wow, that brings back memories."

"Good memories, I bet," Sandy speculated.

"Well, I guess good _and_ bad. I'd just gotten out of the navy, but I just couldn't seem to adjust to civilian life."

"That musta been hard."

Just at that moment, a younger and very dejected-looking past version of Mr. Krabs walked down the street and approached the front door.

Mr. Krabs looked at himself in shock. "Why that's…that's me!"

The past Mr. Krabs went in the front door, followed by Sandy and Mr. Krabs. Past Mr. Krabs sat in a chair, looking so disheartened and isolated, and Sandy and Mr. Krabs continued to watch him.

"Aww, poor guy. You look so lonely," Sandy said.

Mr. Krabs looked straight at the past version of himself like a split-screen mirror image. "I remember this like it was yesterday. I was so depressed; I thought it would never end. For a while…I was seriously considering going back."

"To the navy?"

Mr. Krabs's eyes were deep with melancholy reminiscing. "I…had no one to turn to, and nowhere else to go."

"That's awful sad. But something was fixin' to happen that'd change all that, remember?" Sandy looked to the front door, and right at that instant there was a knock on it.

"Huh?" both Mr. Krabs responded at the same time. Past Mr. Krabs went to answer the door, while Sandy and Mr. Krabs looked out a nearby window.

Past Mr. Krabs opened the door. "Hello?" There was no one there…only a basket left on his doorstep. "What is the meaning of this?" A piece of paper stuck out of the side of the basket. Past Mr. Krabs took it and read it aloud.

"To Whom it May Concern: Please help this poor, innocent little orphan. Her family has been taken away, tragically, at the hands of harpooners. She has nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. Please, find it in your heart to do the right thing. Pearl's life is in your hands now."

"Pearl?" Past Mr. Krabs further inspected the basket to see that the orphan it housed was a baby whale. "Yelp! A whale!" He looked up at the sky. "Oh, why me? It's not like there aren't facilities for this kind of thing." He looked down at Pearl again. "Yeah, that's it; you and me, we're gonna take a little trip down to the orphanage. I bet they'll fetch a fine price for—" he trails off as he took a first good look at the slumbering baby. At that moment, his heart melted and he just couldn't bring himself to dump her in the orphanage. He picked her up…a notable task, considering relative sizes.

"Aww…you're all alone too, aren't you, Pearl? Well don't you worry; I'll take good care of you." He tickled her big nose, causing her to sneeze all over him.

Sandy giggled.

Mr. Krabs, watching the whole thing, started to smile with nostalgia. "Of course…the day I adopted Pearlie. Ah, it was a proud moment. And to think I almost gave her up."

Past Mr. Krabs took Pearl inside, his entire upper half dripping with whale snot. "I'll bet you're hungry, Cutie. Let's see if we can find you something to eat." He disappeared into another room with the baby.

"So you decided _not _to go back to the navy, but to stay and take care of that little girl because she needed you," assessed Sandy.

"That she did. And you know, not long after this I came into the possession of an old retirement home and renovated it into the Krusty Krab," Mr. Krabs reminisced. "If it wasn't for Pearl, I wouldn't have stayed and opened the finest eatery in town."

"Well, you always had an eye for a bargain, sure enough. But there was a time you knew some things were more important." Sandy materialized another vortex and shellboard. "But speaking of the Krusty Krab, I think it's high time we saw a day in yer life there!" She grabbed onto Mr. Krabs as they took off into the vortex…again.

"Oh, no," Mr. Krabs whimpered, followed by a scream for his life as they shot through the vortex.

The time portal reappeared, in the Krusty Krab, and once again Sandy and Mr. Krabs emerge from it.

"How 'bout this, Mr. Krabs? Is this ringin' a bell?" Sandy asked.

"Ergh, not really," Mr. Krabs answered, looking around. "Looks like any other day at work." He watched as another past version of himself ran to the cash register.

Past Mr. Krabs sniffed the register. "Forty-nine…oh…eight! That's a penny short!" he cried, then collapsed onto the register, sobbing.

Past Squidward walked by passively. Oh, no. Not a penny. Help, somebody help us."

Mr. Krabs looked somewhat surprised to see Squidward alive. "There's me late cashier, Squidward. I mean…when he was still alive. The poor barnacle."

"Yeah, but this is also the day you crossed paths with someone that almost made you forget all about the misfortune of a lost penny," said Sandy.

"Someone? You mean…?" he looked over to an adjacent table…and saw the past version of Mrs. Puff sitting there. His eyes lit up with fond memories. "Mrs. Puff…"

"This is the first time y'all met, right?"

"Aye, she was a gem in me eye." Mr. Krabs had a moony look on his face. "I asked her out right away."

Sandy laughed and pointed. "It looks like yer little guy, SpongeBob, is doin' all the askin' for ya!"

Past Mr. Krabs was now over at Past Mrs. Puff's table, sweaty and nervous and otherwise utterly freaking out. Past SpongeBob, fortunately, was able to interpret for him. "He wants to take you…on a date!"

"Heh, he always was the helpful one, that SpongeBob. Too bad I had to let him go," Mr. Krabs said to himself.

"…You have a way with words, Mr. Krabs!" Past Mrs. Puff chuckled at Past Mr. Krabs's display, and then walked away.

"I still got it!" Past Mr. Krabs bragged.

Mr. Krabs sighed. "Dear Mrs. Puff. Oh, we had some good times together."

All the people in the room suddenly vanished, leaving Mr. Krabs and Sandy in a vacant, darkened Krusty Krab.

"But they weren't _all_ good, were they? Remember the very last time ya ever spoke to her?" Sandy reminded him.

Mr. Krabs looked away. "Well, I try not to." He looked back at Sandy, who was heading toward the office door. "Wait, you're not gonna show me _that_, are you? I don't think I can bear the memory."

Sandy opened the office door to reveal Past Mr. Krabs seated at his desk, shuffling dollar bills like cards and laughing to himself. "Maybe it'll help you remember what you forgot…" she stated simply.

The past version of Mrs. Puff came through the door that Sandy held open. "Mr. Krabs?" the former asked.

"Oh! Mrs. Puff!" Past Mr. Krabs thrust his wad of money under the table. "Eh, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you here, sultry queen of my heart?"

Mr. Krabs and Sandy entered to watch the conversation from the doorway.

"Um, well, it's after 7:00. Are we still going out to dinner?" Past Mrs. Puff asked.

"That was today?" Past Mr. Krabs asked. "I thought we were going out to dinner for our six-month anniversary."

"This _is_ our anniversary," she reminded him.

"Oh." He fumbled for a moment. "Well…um…you've got to understand, Darling. Six-month anniversaries come twice a year. But business has been slow this month, and I've been busy trying to think of a way to keep the Krusty Krab from going under."

"That's what you said last month when we were supposed to go to that concert!" she cried.

"I'll make it up to you next month! Cross me heart!" he promised.

Past Mrs. Puff put her foot down. "No, Eugene. No, this time I don't think there will be a 'next month.'"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Mr. Krabs stood beside Past Mrs. Puff, looking sad. "I mean we're finished!" she insisted. "I used to think you cared about me, but now I'm beginning to realize that the only thing you care about is the money in your wallet."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." Past Mr. Krabs opened the safe behind his desk. "Having a wallet is like begging to be mugged! All _my_ money is in this shrine in me safe." The inside of the safe did, indeed, house a shrine of money with candles, incense and picture frames.

"Well! I never!" Past Mrs. Puff turned to leave.

Mr. Krabs looked ashamed. "Ugh, did I really say _that_?"

"Good-bye, Mr. Krabs! Have a nice life, as I'm sure only _you_ can!" Past Mrs. Puff closed door behind her.

"Heh. Oh, well. Now back to work." Past Mr. Krabs started lighting the candles and incense in the shrine.

Sandy moved over beside Mr. Krabs. "And that's how it ended. You tossed her aside like moldy frijoles, and y'all haven't spoken since."

Mr. Krabs looked on the verge of tears. "Oh, you're right, Sandy! It's true what everyone says: I'm just a miserly shell of a man. Now please…I just want to go home. I don't think I can take much more of these memories."

"Suit yourself." She materialized a time portal and her shellboard one last time, but this time she hopped on by herself. "Just bear in mind: when all is said and done, ya can't take nothing with ya but these memories." She rode the board into the vortex and disappeared.

Mr. Krabs watched her go, then looked back to his surroundings… which had become his bedroom.


	4. Right Now

_Author's note:_ Oh, hallelujah; the semester's finally over! Now it should be no trouble getting this story posted in its entirety before next weekend.

Coolkidvh, now come on…don't go saying that. There is no such thing as a "new" idea; there's only repackaged ideas. Why, even Shakespeare borrowed from mythology and history to write his stuff.

And Tonyboy, hope you won't be too disappointed. I tried to throw a Larry cameo in this chapter just as a joke for you…but there just wasn't a good place for it.

**Chapter 4-Right Now**

Mr. Krabs had been returned to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, haunted by the memories of what he's just seen. He sighed. "Maybe Sandy's right. Lookin' back, I ain't so proud of some things I've done." He started to stare off into space. "…I wonder if maybe…Nah!" he concluded, seemingly coming back to his senses.

Just then, the clock chimed 3 AM, and a light went on outside the bedroom door…accompanied by deep, jolly laughter.

Mr. Krabs stood up. "Argh…that'll be me next engagement." He walked to the bedroom door and opened it…only to be confronted by a big, scary pink belly button. "GASP! IT'S A GIANT, FUZZY NAVEL FROM THE AFTERLIFE!" he shrieked.

It turns out that this ghost was standing behind a big mirror to amplify his belly button. He moved the mirror aside to reveal a normal-sized likeness of Patrick Star, sporting festive candy cane shorts and illuminated in a yellow haze.

"SURPRISE! Merry Christmas, Mr. Krabs!" the ghost exclaimed with a typical, cute-stupid Patrick face. He threw the mirror off to the side, and it shattered.

Mr. Krabs didn't seem amused. "Arr. Who are you?"

"I'm the Ghost of the Present! You know…right now?" Patrick answered, sticking a candy cane in his mouth and sucking on it.

"I was afraid of that. But…why of all forms to take did you choose that one?" Mr. Krabs asked.

Patrick scratched his head with the half-eaten candy cane. "Uh…there _was_ a reason, but I…uh…can't remember…"

"Okay then, what you want from me?"

"Uh…that's the problem with living in the present. You always forget things, and you never plan ahead." Patrick beamed. "But that's okay, because right now it's Christmas! And what more could a guy ask for?" He tossed the remainder of the candy cane into his mouth.

"Bah," Mr. Krabs scoffed, "more like 'What more could a guy be burdened with?' Christmas is a wasteful and pointless holiday."

"Aw, come on! You don't really believe that, do you?" Patrick asked jokingly.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Well then, that settles it! We're just gonna have to go out and find someone who can show you all the good that Christmas is bringing to the world right now, as we speak!"

"But, eh, aren't _you_ the Ghost of the Present? I thought that was _your_ job."

"Oh, yeah," Patrick remembered. "…Well, alright; that takes care of that! Let's go!"

"Aw, no. Not another death-defying shellboard through a vortex of peril." Mr. Krabs shivered.  
"Nope, even better!"

Moments later, a Goofy Goober ice cream truck traveled down the road. Inside the truck Goofy Goober himself sat behind the wheel. Patrick sat happily in the passenger seat, and Mr. Krabs stewed between them.

"Goofy, Goofy, Goober, Goober, yeah!" Patrick sang at the top of his voice.

Mr. Krabs's left eye twitched. "Grr..."

Finally, the truck stopped in front of an unfamiliar house in the early daylight hours. Its two passengers disembarked and Patrick, holding an ice cream in one hand, waved after the departing truck with the other. "Thanks again, G.G.! Catch ya later, my good man!"

"Where are we, Patrick?" Mr. Krabs asked. "I don't recognize this house."

"Are you sure? I could have sworn this was where your daughter Pearl's best friend lived. Why don't we just pop in and take a look? Maybe they'll have fruitcake and pudding!" He walked _through the wall_ into the house, and Mr. Krabs reluctantly followed.

Inside the house, Mr. Krabs and Patrick spotted Pearl and four of her friends—Jenny, Kali, Lauren, and Amy—sitting around in the living room, giggling and hanging out. There were presents and wrapping paper everywhere. Pearl's friends were all wearing the Anemone Boots from the magazine…while Pearl still wore her normal shoes.

Jenny handed a present to Pearl. "Go on, Pearl; it's your turn to open one! I picked this one out just for you!"

Pearl took the gift. "Thanks, Jenny."

Mr. Krabs smiled slightly from the warmth of this scene. "Heh, so that's what me Pearl is doing for Christmas. It sure looks like those youngsters are having a good time."

Patrick was busy helping himself to a nearby tiding of fruitcake and pudding. "That's what the holidays are all about, after all."

There was a squeal for joy as Pearl found the present she just opened to be a Prada bag. "Whee! A _real_ Prada bag! Oh, thank you, Jenny! These are totally in this season!" She slung it on her shoulder.

"Hmm, that bag sure looks expensive," Mr. Krabs said skeptically.

"Oh, Pearl, that bag is _so you_!" cried Kali.

"Way _coral_!" added Lauren.

"Thanks, guys," said Pearl. "I hope Daddy will let me keep it, though. He says that Christmas is a waste of money."

Amy scoffed. "Pshaw, that sounds like your dad alright. But it's _his_ loss, really; just look at all the fun he's missing out on!"

"Yeah!" the other girls said in unison.

Mr. Krabs had a humbled expression from hearing this. Patrick looked at him matter-of-factly, the remnants of fruitcake and pudding on his face. "They're right, you know."

"But if he knew I came here to open presents, he'd probably be mad. Can you guys keep a secret, and not let him know where I was?" Pearl asked.

"Sure, Pearl. After all, they say 'silence is golden.' Knowing _your _Dad, he'd probably want us to stay silent forever!" Jenny joked. The other girls all laughed, and Mr. Krabs looked mildly offended by this joke at his expense.

"Well, silence may be golden, but at least talk is cheap!" Lauren continued.

"Just like Pearl's dad!" Kali finished. The girls laughed some more.

Mr. Krabs looked at Patrick despondently. "Argh. Can we go now, Patrick? I don't want to hear any more of this."

"Huh? Oh. Well…okay. There was one more thing I was supposed to show you, though." He disappeared through the wall again, and Mr. Krabs followed.

They reappeared right outside the ChumBucket. "Huh, that was weird," Patrick commented.

Mr. Krabs recognized their surroundings right away. The ChumBucket was seemingly abandoned, all boarded up and a "CLOSED" sign in the window. "Hold on, why did you bring me here?" he asked. "This _was_ me arch-rival Plankton's restaurant, but he was sent to the Institute for the Criminally Tiny months ago."

"Just look inside," Patrick instructed. "I think you'll be surprised."

They both peered through the window. Sure enough, there was Plankton sitting on one of the dusty, deserted tables. His color was a sick, pale green and his eye was redder than usual. He just sat there, antennae down in a defeated sort of way, absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Karen, any chance of something to eat today?" he asked his computer-wife stoically.

Karen wheeled up to him. "You're in luck. It just so happens I was going through the old storage, and I found this pack of mayonnaise." She extended the mayo to Plankton with her claw-hand.

His antennae perked up. "An _entire_ pack of mayonnaise?"

"And some decaf coffee grounds," she added, giving him an instant coffee bag.

Plankton affectionately held his wife's "hand" with both his little hands. "Oh Karen, my sweet…you're a blessing." He hugged her hand and choked up. "I don't know what I did to deserve you…"

"I don't know what I did, either," she said with a digital eye-roll.

Plankton sobbed. "Is this the fate of all creatures who dare to dream? It's not fair! I—" He was cut off in mid-sentence by violent coughing.

"Easy, Plankton," Karen cautioned. "Don't get too upset; you'll just make yourself more sick."

"Right." Plankton tried to compose himself.

"Mr. Krabs pried away from the window and looked at Patrick. "I don't get it. How did he get out of the institute?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe you should have asked the Ghost of the Past," Patrick shrugged.

"Well…do you at least know what's the matter with him?"

Patrick crossed his arms and nodded smartly. "Of course I do; I'm not _stupid_. He caught some kind of ultra-microscopic spore in the institute, and he has no money to live on since his restaurant was closed down after the bucket helmet incident."

"Ha! The little twerp had it coming to him!" Mr. Krabs scoffed.

"But even _he_ hasn't been forgotten this Christmas." Patrick pointed off to the left.

"Whoa, Gary!" said a familiar, chipper voice.

Mr. Krabs looked in the direction of the voice. "SpongeBob?"

SpongeBob approached, apparently unaware of Mr. Krabs's presence. He wore a festive Santa Claus hat, and beside him his pet snail Gary wore fake reindeer antlers and pulled a sled stacked with gifts.

"Meow?" went Gary.

"I'm not sure, pal. Let me check the list," SpongeBob responded, checking over a long list of people to give presents to. "Ok, so we've delivered Sandy's gift, and Patrick's. What about those flowers to bring to the cemetery for Squidward?"

Gary went inside his shell, reemerging with some shriveled-looking poinsettias.

"Good! Then I guess that just leaves Plankton. You can wait outside if you want to, Gary."

"Meow."

Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes. "What's he doing, Patrick?"

"Well, what's it look like? He's giving gifts…to spread the Christmas spirit!" Patrick exclaimed.

"Yeah, but…to _Plankton_! I don't know whether or not he's forgotten, but Plankton is the bane of the Krusty Krab's very existence!"

"So? I dunno whether or not _you've_ forgotten, but SpongeBob doesn't work for you anymore. You fired him, remember?"

"Well…yeah, but I don't—" Mr. Krabs looked uncomfortably at SpongeBob standing at the ChumBucket door. "Okay, maybe I was a bit too hard on him, but he still wouldn't—"

SpongeBob knocked on the door, ignoring the fact that it was boarded up. Mr. Krabs and Patrick came through the wall into the dilapidated restaurant to see Plankton's reaction.

Plankton coughed as he heard the door knock. "Who could that be?"

"I don't know, Plankton. Maybe…a visitor?" suggested Karen.

"Well, what could they possibly want? And why couldn't they have shown up when we were still in business!"

There was another knock on the door. "IT'S OPEN!" Plankton shouted.

SpongeBob opened the door…boards, nails and all.

Plankton looked dumbfounded. "SpongeBob?"

"Hi, Plankton!" SpongeBob greeted, entering the room. He held Karen's claw-hand. "And Mrs. Plankton, you're looking lovely as usual," he complimented, kissing her hand.

Her screen blushed an embarrassed red shade. "Oh! Um…well, gosh I…uh…"

Plankton jumped to his feet angrily. "What do you think you're doing here, you great yellow oaf!"

"I just wanted to stop by to wish you a Merry Christmas…and give you this gift." The yellow sponge held up a wrapped parcel. "It's that booster seat you've always wanted!"

"SpongeBob, how ignorant are you!" Plankton demanded. "I don't know whether or not you've forgotten, but I've been aspiring to put your tightwad boss out of business for years! I've manipulated you, taken advantage of you for my own personal gain, even tried to have you eliminated!"

"That's right!" Mr. Krabs concurred in the background.

SpongeBob looked down solemnly. "I know, Plankton. But this is Christmas. Sure, we've had our differences in the past. Some of them were bad, some were _really_ bad, some were _not so_ bad, some were kind of in between bad and not so bad…and even some were really bad with an ironic twist of not so bad. But Christmas means more than just Santa Claus, or expensive gifts…or fruitcakes and pudding. Christmas is when we're supposed to forget about all the bad things, and remember the good things. But more importantly, it's a time of forgiving."

All the spectators appeared to be humbled by SpongeBob's earnest soliloquy. …Except Plankton, who scoffed. "Anyone who tells you that is selling something. But I _have _always wanted that booster seat, so I guess I should say…thanks," he conceded.

"You're welcome!" SpongeBob grinned.

Mr. Krabs watched this whole scene, somewhat touched. "Ahh. I don't know what to say, Patrick. I'm not sure if I'll ever understand this Christmas forgiveness stuff. But I had no idea it was like _this_."

"Y'see?" said Patrick. "I told you we'd show you all the good Christmas is bringing to the world!"

At that moment, Plankton broke into a coughing fit again. Karen patted him on the back. "Um, I think Plankton needs some time to rest now. But thanks for stopping by, SpongeBob," she said.

"You bet. Hope you get to feeling better, Plankton. And Merry Christmas!" With that, he was gone.

Mr. Krabs looked on with some semblance of sympathy at Plankton and Karen. "Um…Patrick? Is, eh, Plankton gonna be okay?" he asked uneasily.

Patrick shrugged. "I dunno. It's like I said, that's the problem with living in the present; you never know what's gonna happen next. But he doesn't look so good now, does he?"

Mr. Krabs looked one last time at Plankton as the little invertebrate got on the booster seat SpongeBob gave him.

Patrick pulled him away from his thoughts. "C'mon. I gotta be going soon." They both proceeded out of the ChumBucket through the wall.

"What do you mean? Going where?" Mr. Krabs asked.

"My time in this world is almost up," Patrick responded with an unusually somber tone.

"Already? But you've taught me so much. Because of you, I'm starting to understand things like never before."

"Glad I could help! I _am_ the Ghost of the Present, after all!"

The Goofy Goober Ice Cream Truck that they rode in earlier now came around the corner and stopped in front of the ChumBucket. "Oh, boy! My ride's here!" grinned Patrick. He started to sing the Goofy Goober theme song to himself as he boarded the truck.

"Wait, Patrick! Are you just gonna leave me here, to walk all the way back to my house in me _nightgown_?" Mr. Krabs asked in dismay.

Patrick looked out from the passenger window. "Don't worry; the Ghost of the Future will come and meet you here!"

Mr. Krabs seemed a bit afraid. "The future? But Patrick, you—"

He was cut off by the sound of the ice cream truck driving away…and of the Goofy Goober theme song. There he was, left standing on the vacant street.


	5. Looking Ahead

_Author's note_: Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. Once again, I wanna thank you for all of your support and suggestions. I really appreciate it, especially since I'm relatively new to crossovers and never expected this one to get off the ground. The good news is, I asked for the Adobe Suite for Christmas...and if I get it this story will be made into a comic book as was its true intent. And with your suggestions, it will be even better than it would have been as it is now!

Let me be the first to say that I really don't like this chapter. It's so short, cut and dried. But I did promise it would be finished by Christmas…and that's in a matter of hours now. Tonyboy, in future revisions I think I will look at some of the Christmas Carol films versions you were talking about. But for now, this will have to do.

--P.S. You have all gotten really good at guessing who the Ghosts are gonna be. ;)

**Chapter 5—Looking ahead**

Before Mr. Krabs's very eyes, all his surroundings slowly blurred and faded to grey until nothing was familiar. He found himself in an abysmal void. "Wha—where am I?" he whimpered to no one in particular.

He glanced around frantically...then suddenly became aware of a cold chill coming from behind him. Cautiously, he turned and found himself face to face with a phantasmal black silhouette. The apparition had glowing green eyes and emitted an eerie green haze.

Mr. Krabs's eyes shrank in fear. "You…you must be the Ghost of the Future, I presume?"

The Ghost of the Future did not respond. The silence was piercing.

Mr. Krabs laughed nervously. "Heheh…you're not like the other ghosts."

The Ghost put a shadowy hand on Mr. Krabs's shoulder, as if leading him somewhere.

"Huh? Where are we going?"

A time portal vortex materialized beside them, like the one recently used by the Ghost of the Past.

"Oh, I get it. Alright then…I guess we better get going." Mr. Krabs walked through the vortex…and found himself falling through a psychedelic dimension similar to the one Squidward was evicted to in _Shanghaied_. "OOOHHH, NOOO!" he wailed.

The exit to the time portal appeared inside the bustling—but not hectic—Krusty Krab, close to the ceiling. Mr. Krabs fell out and landed hard on the floor. "Ooof!" He stood up, brushed himself off and looked around. "Ah. At least it looks like my beloved Krusty Krab is seeing good business in the future."

Beside him, the Ghost of the Future faded into view and pointed in the direction of the cash register. The employee standing behind it was a female fish with black hair in pigtails, wearing a black shirt and red plaid skirt.

The fish cheerfully handed a tray to a customer. "There you are, Sir! Come again, okay?"

Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar girl. "Hold on! Who in Davy Jones's name is _that_!" He walked past the register and peeked in the kitchen, only to find the guy that was mistaken for the Hash-Slinging Slasher in _Graveyard_ _Shift_ standing at the grill, holding a spatula and picking his nose.

He looked up at the Ghost again. "Wait a second, where's SpongeBob? I know I…uh…just fired him and all, but I guess I wasn't thinking about a future of the business without him. Where is he?"

The Ghost simply pointed across the street to the ChumBucket. Mr. Krabs hesitantly made his way across the street and casually went through the front door into Plankton's restaurant. There he saw the yellow sponge, talking to a very somber-looking Karen. Plankton was nowhere to be found, but the booster seat SpongeBob gave him sat vacant on the same table.

Karen sobbed. "Thank you for coming over on such short notice, SpongeBob."

SpongeBob placed a hand on her mechanical arm, trying to comfort her. "Of course, Karen. I came as soon as I heard. So…when exactly did it happen?"

"Early this morning. That ultra-microscopic spore…just finally got to him."

Mr. Krabs gave the Ghost a sheepish look. "You…you don't mean Plankton…?"

Again, no reaction.

"Heh…what goes around comes around, I guess." Mr. Krabs tried half-heartedly to laugh, then continued to watch SpongeBob and Karen.

"I'm so sorry, Karen," SpongeBob said. "I only wish there was more I could do."

"No, no; don't say that," Karen protested. "Plankton might not have shown it, but we really appreciated your support. Even though it's mostly because of you he got committed in the first place. And even though he's slighted you, used you…" She sniffed back artificial tears. "…and hired a shady hit man to kill you…" she broke down and cried. SpongeBob "hugged" Karen and cried with her.

Mr. Krabs didn't know what to say at first. He speculated to himself. "This is…really sad. Even after all that Plankton's done…" Then to the Ghost he said, "Is this all that you brought me to the future to see?"

The Ghost lead Mr. Krabs back outside in time to see two random fish meeting on the street.

"Oh, hey Chris," the first fish greeted.

"Hi Eric!" Chris responded. "Oh, you'll never believe what I heard. Guess who _finally_ bit the hook!"

"Who?"

"I'll give you a hint: It's someone that everybody hates."

"You don't mean…?"

"That's right."

"Hah, it's about time! I thought he'd never go. So, when was the funeral?"

"I dunno, but it's not like anyone would have gone to it, anyway!"

These harsh words surprised Mr. Krabs.

"I heard that," Eric continued. "But anyway, come on; let's go have lunch at Shell Shack!"

"Ooh, great idea!" Both Chris and Eric headed down the street together.

"Who were those two talking about in such a mean way?" Mr. Krabs asked the Ghost. "It must have been Plankton, right?"

The Ghost pointed off in one direction.

"What is it with you and that finger!" Mr. Krabs demanded, frustrated. "Why can't you just answer the question!"

The Ghost just kept pointing.

"Ugh. Very well." He followed where the Ghost's finger led, only to find himself at Floater's Cemetery…as dark and scary as ever.

"Oh, this bone yard always gives me the creeps," he trembled.

They passed nonchalantly by the grave labeled "Here lies Squidward's hopes and dreams." The latter part has been crossed out so it now reads "Here lies Squidward."

"But, wait a minute," Mr. Krabs suddenly realized. "If Plankton only just died this morning, he couldn't have been buried already."

The Ghost pointed to a dark, dismal tombstone. No flowers, nothing.

"That's a miserable, lonely-looking grave all right," Mr. Krabs rambled a bit in his fear. "But it's definitely not Plankton's. His would be much smaller. So…whose is it?"

A green, ghostly ray of light shoots from the Ghost's fingertip to the tombstone, causing it to illuminate and display the name "Eugene Krabs."

Mr. Krabs gasped. "What! No!"

The Ghost finally illuminated, his features becoming distinct. "That's right, Krabs! It's yours!" he said in a voice resembling a Dutch sailor's.

Mr. Krabs's jaw dropped. "WAAAH! The Flying Dutchman!"

The Flying Dutchman laughed. "And you'll no doubt be happy to know that it was the cheapest funeral in history. _No one_ bothered to show up at all!"

Mr. Krabs grasped at the tombstone in disbelief. "But doesn't anyone care that I'm gone? What about me daughter, Pearl?"

"She moved in with your mother and was attending fashion school, but now she's dropped out and taken _your_ job!" the Dutchman explained. "She's doing surprisingly well, too."

"Well, what about SpongeBob?" Mr. Krabs asserted. "He cared about Plankton's death, and he thinks I'm the greatest boss there ever was!"

"You _fired_ the poor lubber, remember! Those people you saw at the Krusty Krab were his replacements!"

Mr. Krabs stammered. "No! He couldn't really-- I didn't mean to—"

"Just face it, Krabs! The world would be better off without a tightwad like you!"

"But I'm a whole new crab! You've got to believe me; I've learned so much from all of this!" Mr. Krabs shriveled onto his knees. "It doesn't have to be this way! I can make it all better, you'll see!" He was near tears. "Please!"

The Flying Dutchman towered over him "See to it that you do…or else!" He let out an otherworldly roar. Mr. Krabs cowered shamefully in a fetal position on the ground, covering his eyes and weeping loudly.

"WAAAHAAHAA!"

_Author's note_: Alright. Normally I don't do this sort of thing, but with this story almost to a close, I find myself with two more ideas for SpongeBob crossovers that I'd love to hear what you all think of. Fair warning, these would both be directed at older audiences than is Christmas Carol. My friend and I are collaborating on them…and we are 19-year-olds with an obscure sense of humor, after all.

_Orgazmo/SpongeBob crossover_: SpongeBob and Sandy have big plans to open their own karate dojo in Bikini Bottom. SpongeBob goes door to door in hopes of raising money for the investment, but when the knocks on the door of a mansion where an adult film is being made—ultimately finding himself in the leading role--he just might be in for more than he bargained for. Believe it or not, this story does _not_ contain porn; the original Orgazmo by Trey Parker is itself a spoof of the porn industry. It would probably be a T rating at best, M at worst…but fans of the real Orgazmo movie should appreciate it nonetheless.

_Silence of the Lambs/SpongeBob crossover_: A mad serial killer is on a spree, committing a number of brutal murders. Sandy Cheeks, a determined and confident trainee of the Bikini Bottom Police Department, is sent to the asylum to interview a captive for a better understanding of these crimes. What results is a disturbing look at the demons of Sandy's own past…and a race against time to rescue the latest victim before it's too late. Again, this could probably pull off a T rating; I've seen an edited version of SotL on TV that was rated T. Do you think it'd be too gruesome to go there, though?


	6. Yuletide Resolve

_Author's Note_: Believe it or not, I'm back. And here it is, the grand finale. In all honesty, I really didn't think I was gonna finish this story, mainly because of some family issues that make Christmas, well, not such a nice time for me. So, I'd kinda lost interest in it, but I really couldn't bring myself to start working on anything else until it was done…especially after that 'reminder' I got back on Christmas Eve from one of you reviewers. You know who you are. ;) This one's for you.

Thanks once again everyone for your support, and for making this my most successful endeavor on FFN in all my 4+ years on it, in terms of reception. With that, happy reading, and a fond farewell.

**Chapter 6—Yuletide Resolve**

"WAAAHAAHAA!" Mr. Krabs was still huddled over, his eyes covered fearfully.

There was a tap on his back. "Dad! Dad! What is the matter with you?!" Pearl's voice demanded.

"Huh?" Mr. Krabs peeked up with one eye. The Flying Dutchman was nowhere to be seen, and he was safely back in his own room. "I'm…I'm back home!" He hardly dared believe it, but it was true. "Heehee! It's all over!" he sat up jubilantly.

"What? Were you having a nightmare?" Pearl asked, standing beside him.

"Pearl!" he grabbed and hugged his daughter, remembering fondly the images he saw of her adoption in the past. "Oh, Pearlie! I'm so glad to see you!" he choked up. "You have no idea how much you've meant to me…ever since the day you came into me life…"

"Okay, Dad…you're scaring me now," Pearl said with a quizzical tone.

He let go of her. "Sorry." Just then, he noticed a bag on her shoulder. It was the same Prada bag he witnessed her opening at her friend's house. "Hey, that's a nice bag you're wearing. Was it a Christmas present?"

She clutched the bag reluctantly. "Um, yeah. You're not mad, are you?"

He laughed. "Of course not, Sweetie! It's Christmas! And that means I still have time to set things right!" He got up and started to leave... but then remembered the Anemone Boots she asked for the day before. "And then afterward, we'll go and buy you those boots you've been wanting."

"Really?!" Pearl brightened.

"You bet. I can't let my little girl be the only one without them! How un-_coral_ would that be?"

She made a face. "Um…Dad? We talked about the whole 'coral' thing."

He nodded. "Right, that we did." He turned and headed out the door with a bounce in his stride. "Well, I'll be back as soon as I can!"

The streets of downtown Bikini Bottom were alive with Christmas cheer…and Mr. Krabs, transformed by the lessons of the ghosts, was the jolliest of them all as he strolled by, whistling a jaunty tune. Full of the Christmas spirit in his old crustacean heart, he knew what had to be done to right the wrongs of his past miserly ways. Along his way, he passed by Shady Shoals Retirement Home, where the two semi-retired champions Mermaid-Man and Barnacle-Boy sat in rockers, enjoying their extra tidings of meatloaf, broccoli, and Christmas pudding.

"Ahoy there, Oldsters!" Mr. Krabs waved cheerily, heading towards them.

"Uhh…huh? What's that you say, Chief? Eh, The Dirty Bubble robbing the bank again?" Mermain-Man muttered in his own little world of senility.

"No, no, Mermaid-Man, that's not the Chief; it's that crab who donated $1,000 out of his retirement yesterday!" Barnacle-Boy said.

"…Oh, yeah. Er, thanks again, sir; maybe now we can afford to, uh, get the TV fixed at the Home," Mermaid-Man said to Mr. Krabs.

"The pleasure's all mine, me gents! Gotta take care of our senior generation in yer golden years, now don't we?" Mr. Krabs grinned. "Especially on Christmas, the most giving time of them all."

"Well, gee, that's pretty hospitable of you, mister," Barnacle-Boy said. "And everyone's always said you were nothing but a penny-pinching skinflint."

"That may have been so, but I had me an epiphany late last night. Things're gonna be different from now on, you'll see!" Mr. Krabs beamed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot to do on this special Christmas Day!" With that, he continued strolling on his way.

"Oh? …Uh, um. Where's the Chief going?" Mermaid-Man drawled, followed by a sigh from Barnacle-Boy.

Mr. Krabs eventually arrived at SpongeBob's pineapple house all festive and aglow with Christmas decorations like a giant holiday fruitcake with windows and doors. Inside could be heard the high-pitched, chipper voice of SpongeBob singing "This Christmas feels like the very first Christmas to me!" Mr. Krabs felt a tight gripping of guilt for the way he had treated the eager yellow sponge the day before, and decided to hide his newfound holiday spirit and surprise his former fry cook. Putting on a straight face, he rapped on SpongeBob's door. The singing stopped, and SpongeBob answered the door to see Mr. Krabs standing there with a stern expression, claws crossed and tapping his stubby foot.

"Oh…um, Mr. Krabs," SpongeBob acknowledged wanly. "What, uh, brings you here?"

"Perhaps _you_ could be telling me that, lad," Mr. Krabs feigned anger. "Why ain't ye at work this morning, making me money like yer supposed to?"

SpongeBob looked hesitant. "But…I thought you f-fired me, Mr. Krabs."

"Oh, come now, boy! Don't you know a joke when you hear one? Did ye really think I would just sack me best fry cook after years of loyal service? Of course not. Har, har. Laugh, boy, it's a joke. Har, har."

"Really?" SpongeBob's face brightened. "You mean I can still work at the Krusty Krab?! Whoopee!" he cheered. "This is the greatest Christmas gift of all!"

"Listen, SpongeBob," Mr. Krabs said solemnly. "I know it's been hard on both of us losing poor old Squidward. But it was wrong of me to let the tough times to go me head so much. You were right about all that stuff you said yesterday, about how Christmas is a time for sharing joy and all that. I just needed a little…_help_ to see that for myself."

"Really?" SpongeBob asked.

"Tell ya what, son," Mr. Krabs offered. "Why don't ye take this special day off, and tomorrow we can look into hiring a new cashier. That big-nosed feller has had an application on file for a while now." He recalled the guy he saw picking his nose at the grill in the future vision. "Oh, and while I'm feeling generous, I'm gonna give you a nice Christmas bonus! …I heard that you know a certain single-celled invertebrate that may be in need of some more mayonnaise packs, some decaf coffee grounds or…I dunno…A brand new booster seat?" He referred to the heart-warming moment he saw in the Chum Bucket.

"Gosh, thanks Mr. K," SpongeBob replied, choked up gratefully. "I don't know what else to say."

"Think nothing of it, me boy," Mr. Krabs responded. "Well, then, I'm off to take Pearlie window-shopping; see you at work tomorrow. Have a Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too, sir," SpongeBob replied cheerfully, and then returned inside his pineapple.

As Mr. Krabs was strolling away down Conch Street, he heard the faint sound of a "Yee-ha!" somewhere in the background. As he turned to look, he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a familiar mammalian figure shell-boarding over one of the sand dunes. At that same instant, a Goofy Goober ice cream truck sped down the street behind him, accompanied by a cheerful, oafish shout of "Whee!" and an ephemeral shadow dissipated overhead.

"Huh? What was…?" Mr. Krabs looked around, but found nothing but the evidence of a joyous holiday season all around him. "Oh, well," he shrugged, and continued on his merry way.


End file.
